


A Healer Meets an Auror

by mcal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Auror James Potter, F/M, Healer Hermione Granger, Hermione went to Beauxbatons, James Potter Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-25 10:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19743478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcal/pseuds/mcal
Summary: Another non-Voldemort AU, in which I fudged with the ages of some characters to fit the narrative. It's completely AU, and a gift for a friend. Hermione thought she had things figured out moving back to Britain from France with her new job as a Healer at St. Mungo's, until she met Auror James Potter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).



> Alpha love to Frumpologist and Beta thanks to CourtingInsanity. All remaining errors are my own. love you so much, LK! I hope you enjoy!!! 
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Someone was speaking to her in her dream… His voice was thick and gravelly. He was saying her name. Repeating it after a few pauses… She'd heard this voice before. She liked this voice; it made her want to sink back into her in quiet contentment, which was precisely what her hazy sense of awareness told her she was doing.

The voice was accompanied by a shake now, followed by warmth and softness against her forehead. That was lovely, too, and as she leaned into it, her entire body shifted and there was an absolutely _perfect_ tingle between her thighs. So, the subsequent hum she just released was the result of inhibited pleasure, which meant that…

"...need you to wake up, Hermione. Please."

"Hmm?" Her brows drew together, pieces sliding into place…

A husky chuckle. "I know it's early, but your wards are impenetrable, and I need to get home."

Even through closed, sleep-heavy eyes, she could tell it must still be dark outside. "Stay," she huffed, sliding a hand over the sheet to brush a mass of curls out of her face. "Shower here if you want. Sleep now."

Silence. Long silence… Or maybe she was too sleepy to properly quantify time…

"I'm not sure that's a good idea…"

"Oh?" Bugger sleep then, because _now_ she had to sit up. Her body groaned as she sat upright, her bed sheet slipping from her bare form, pooling over her thighs as she rubbed her eyes. "Praytell, James Potter, why is it imperative you leave my flat in the middle of the night tonight when we've slept until the break of dawn at not just your office, but your flat, and that one incident involving a Muggle hotel room in Sussex?"

He just stood there without talking and her arms folded over her chest, pushing out her minimal cleavage, not that it mattered at the moment. It was dark and she was irritated after all. Her eyes narrowed, not that he would be able to see that very clearly either. "And let's not forget you're the one who specifically asked to come _here_. _You_ owl'd me at the Healer's Halloween party, asking to meet up, and you're the one who suggested my pl—"

"You didn't have to agree." That was a weak excuse, and he must have known it was, because he sighed heavily as she in turn drew a sharp breath, dropping her arms to snatch at the sheet, yanking it to her bare torso. "Shite, sorry," he swore, dropping to his knees at the side of the bed, resting his hand near her arse.

She stiffened, casting a wandless flicking spell at her bedside lamp.

Shadows and golden-yellow light mingled over the kneeling wizard's face, his throat bobbing, and light catching on his glasses in a way that had Hermione's stomach flipping on itself. He opened his mouth, leaning into her ever so slightly. "That was a dumb thing to say, and I'm sorry. You're right. You're completely right. I knew you had plans, but owl'd you still. And I'm the one who asked to come here instead."

 _Instead._ Instead of… what? She studied him in the silence beats of him leaving explanations unsaid. To his credit, he didn't try to slide his hand up to cop a feel of skin, and she permitted her posture to slacken.

"I didn't disagree," she conceded. "And before you start to think I'm holding you captive here, the wards are just second nature by now." His brow lifted slightly in silent question while his hand finally dared to slide close enough to her arse so that his warmth hummed against her skin. She shrugged her shoulders. "My dad worried the whole year after I finished Beauxbatons and lived in Paris by myself, and my friends and I had to go through great pains of showing him the effectiveness of my security wards."

She stopped herself there, her lips folding in on themselves, conveying that was all the explanation he would be getting for now.

"I see." He gave her one of those infuriatingly handsome crooked smiles, rising from his bent position, towering over her once he reached his full height. "Look, I know that last night… that I—or _we—_ I know we agreed we wouldn't…" He trailed off, dragging a hand through his freshly shagged unruly dark hair, swearing again.

"James." His name fell from her lips so softly, it could have been mistaken as a caress. Or maybe she'd meant it to be that. Maybe all that had crossed lines and boundaries last night was still _this_ was the occasion he chose to leave in the middle of the night. That _now_ was the time he wanted to disappear as if it had meant nothing at all, when he'd had plenty of other chances to make that declaration. He met her waiting gaze, hazel eyes piercing, and she hugged the sheet closer to her chest. "If you need an early start to the day or completely despise my mattress, it's fine. But at four months into all this, I just think I deserve some sort of explanation for tonight."

He scoffed aloud, tearing his glasses from his face to rub his eyes, muttering and swearing. "If I fully understood that myself, Hermione," he started, setting his glasses back on his face, "I'd clue you in. All I know for now is that four hours ago I couldn't be at home, and I didn't want to be alone. But now I just need to get back home and face it all alone before the day begins."

She was dreaming still. That was it. This was all some ridiculous dream, a projection of her subconscious telling her that four months into this mutually beneficial physical entanglement with James Potter was long enough. That this was no longer beneficial to her wellbeing, or some rubbish like that

Hermione didn't press, and the fully dressed wizard offered nothing more. Maybe it had only been a vivid fantasy playing out when she and James had slowly stripped themselves and each other of their garments, piece by piece, taking their time to linger and taste before falling into her bed, limbs tangled, hearts pounding…

Maybe it had all been wishful thinking of a silly girl that last night had felt different than any other time, and he could see she clearly wasn't worldly enough for a man fifteen years her senior…

The sudden empty _pang_ in her chest was evidence she was now very much awake. She reached for her wand, smile tight as she adjusted her wards with a series of waves and flicks. James Potter disappeared with a hasty, "Goodnight" and ' _pop_ ', leaving Hermione alone with wards, her doubts, and her fears.

* * *

"You're awfully quiet today."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, as she read on from Medi-Witch Brocklehurst's notes on Warrington's healing. "I wasn't aware that you found me to be particularly chatty, Theo."

The wizard huffed, flicking at the mass of curls gathered in her ponytail. "You know what I mean, witch." He dropped his lanky form to his elbows, leaning over so his shadow hovered over the patient's parchment notes. "No banter, no discourse; not even a shrill, lofty, 'Theo, you're such a prat,'" he said, with such exaggerated falsetto that Hermione was almost tempted to give him the satisfaction of her glaring attention. _Almost_. Theo huffed, tugging at a curl now. "See, now I know something's really wrong, because you're not even deigning to give me a lecture on the importance of professionalism; or being a representation of the hospital's standard of care towards our patients; or embodying the excellent and noble calling that is magical medical practice; or—"

"Shut it. Now." Hermione's hand clapped over her friend's moving mouth, giving him the coldest stare she could muster. "I'm not having a personal conversation with you in the middle of the floor for everyone listening in on, and _no_." Her foot stamped hard against the floor as her friend's brown eyes widened as with 'clever inspiration' (or so Theo called it when he had some rubbish idea). "We are not taking a break right now, because I am not thinking about any of this while in the middle of my shift. And you're not even supposed to be shadowing me today, so go find Healer Chang and bother her with your incessant and personal inquiries."

She'd had friends at school whom speeches like that had worked on, but perhaps Hogwarts wizards were stupid, because Theo's face crinkled as with a smile, and he easily shoved her hand from over his mouth.

"Cho went home with morning sickness or some baby issue like that and I've been assigned to you," he declared proudly. Like he'd just won an argument that the sun was shining when she believed it to be raining, or some asinine crock like that. "Which you would have known if you'd been paying attention to anything at all today, seeing as how the two of you have been assigned to the same two floors last week and this week, which just goes to prove my point that something's wrong with you."

"False. You specifically said I was 'awfully quiet today'."

"Same thing." Theo shrugged, eyes laughing.

She loosed a sigh, dropping her eyes back to the parchment to read over this 'pudding incident' again, seeing as how she'd absorbed none of it… "It's really not the same thing; I simply have nothing private to share with anyone at work at the moment."

"But you never do that, anyways."

Hermione's lips folded in on themselves as her grip on her quill tightened. "Yes. I. Do."

Theo fingered the edge of the parchment. "No, you don't. All I know about you is that you were some magical prodigy and you performed accidental magic around a family of squibs when you were ten. They told your parents about Hogwarts, but Dumbledore was an old stick-in-the-mud about being eleven, which is just dumb, because you were going to be eleven eighteen days immediatley following the start of the school year…"

 _Slytherin my arse_ , Hermione thought. The house was apparently famous for its sense of self-preservation. That concept was lost on Theo. She began a mental countdown: _Ten… nine… eight…_

Theo prattled on: "... your Mum's French, and found out about Beauxbatons, which worked out perfectly for you, because you grew up speaking French and English, and so that's how you ended up _not_ coming to school with such splendid folk like myself and Draco…"

_Five… four… three…_

"...which is really such a shame, because I think he would've liked you. Malfoy men appreciate confident swots, and—"

"Enough, Theo," she hissed, silencing him with a wandless silencing charm, which he had the good sense to finally accept as sign he should cease and desist, as he shot upright, mouth tight, eyes narrowed; a lone finger pointing at his face. Hermione shook her head. "Nope. Since you're my intern for the duration of the day, you will have the extreme good fortune of reviewing my patient list, making notes on my patient assessment, diagnosis, plan of care, and any prescriptions. I would also like your notes to include if you disagree with anything as well."

The air between them rumbled as Theo growled and snatched at a blank sheet of parchment, reaching for a quill within his white trainee robes. He scribbled on the parchment before sliding it to Hermione.

_I'll need my voice to talk the patient if I'm to counter any notes with my own opinion, ma'am._

A smile cracked across Hermione's face in spite of herself and she lifted the enchantment. Twat he may be, and one with no regard for personal boundaries, but there was no doubt in her mind that Theo would make a good Healer.

"I apologise for my rude outburst, Theodore," she started, hoping to recover some semblance of decorum and professionalism for the remainder of the day. "You're not wrong, but truly, this is nothing I wish to discuss here and now."

Theo opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of whatever it was he was about to say and stepped around the counter for Hermione's stack of patient files. Hermione went back to trying to at last discern what the bloody hell Warrington was complaining about and considered the matter dropped when Theo broached the silence:

"At the risk of toeing and crossing that sacred line between healer and trainee, is there anything you'd like to get off your chest after work sometime?"

Hermione's heart stopped. And dropped. And twisted into a thousand different knots in the pit of her core. Someone to muddle through this emotional quagmire with would be nice. And there was the thing that a date, if that's even how he meant it, with someone her own age… Outside of shagging… in which she talked and someone listened, and she in turn listened, too…

Fathomless hazel eyes framed behind no-nonsense frames filled her vision. To her extreme horror, her mind filled in the gaps to reveal the face of one Auror James Potter. She saw that smirk he smirked when his fingers teased that delicious spot between her legs and she would moan and lean into him, his lips pursued in a silent grunt when he spilled himself inside her; his thick, dark hair after she'd run her hands all through it…

"... a 'no' then, isn't it?"

Theo's voice shattered the illusion of her fantasies, and she forced herself to breathe deep and blink at least three times before answering.

"I appreciate the offer, Theo, but this is something I need to figure out for myself."

A shadow of something crossed his face; maybe sadness, maybe understanding, maybe a combination of the two and other emotions as well, but that wasn't for her to dissect. Not now, at least…

They worked the duration of Hermione's shift in silence, speaking only of patients and magical medicine, with Theo offering her his signature two-fingered salute as Hermione dismissed him from his interning duties and he made his way to the lift. She noted the familiar swagger in his gait, and breathed a sigh of gratitude that she hadn't buggered one more relationship up.

* * *

The thing was, though, Hermione wasn't entirely sure she'd buggered anything up with James. She'd spent the day going over four months worth of catalogued memories with the wizard, and fallen short with figuring out what she could have done. Why he felt it necessary to suddenly _leave_ this morning.

Not that they'd made a rule of _not_ leaving. And, granted, their usual hookup places were places that she would need to be the one to get up and leave, but he'd never let her… She'd offered several times in the first few weeks, but he'd wrap an arm around her side and pull her close before they surrendered to sleep; he never said anything when she stopped offering.

The occasional instant of a quick fuck had been in places like his office, a broom cupboard somewhere about the Ministry of Magic, and an on-call room at St. Mungo's; the only issue of leaving then had been who left first and if all articles of clothing were accounted for.

What was the absolute worst about this entire this entire situation was that now at the end of the day, she'd be forced to face her flat that _he'd_ been in last night.

And she'd be facing it alone. Alone with her screaming thoughts and lingering questions. Perhaps now would be a good time to purchase a familial; she'd always wanted one, but it never felt practical with all the travelling in her life up to this point…

She stifled the sigh clawing at her throat as she slipped out the front door to the hospital. Whereas Theo and several of her coworkers preferred the Floo system, Hermione didn't have a fireplace in her flat, and decided she didn't mind in the slightest. Soot was the scourge of the British wizarding world, as no charm worked long enough or well enough to rid the home entirely from the mark of deep grey soot and green Floo powder. Besides, there was a lovely deli on the way to the Apparition point, and seeing as how she'd worked through lunch today, and a pesto chicken sandwich sounded a dream at the mo—

"Hello, Hermione."

He was here. _He_ was here. He was _here._ Right outside the deli. Meeting her after work as if he were waiting on her to purchase a sandwich like normal and ask if she wanted to come back to his flat for a little while…

"Hello, James." Merlin, the loathed how the shake in her voice right now. "What ar—"

"I had a hunch—" he burst out simultaneously, biting down on his lip and grabbing the back of his neck when he realised he cut her off. "I had a hunch you'd come this way for dinner, if that's what you were asking, but I interrupted you. Sorry."

He was nervous. She hadn't seen him like this much; he was usually so self-assured. So confident, so full of swagger and charm… But today… It was eerily reminiscent of moments from their previous night.

"Were you going to eat?" he asked, side-stepping for her to have better access to the sandwich shoppe, and it was only then that she realised she was still just standing there. Standing there and looking at him. Standing there, looking at him, and not talking. Hardly breathing, at that.

She gave a hard swallow. "I was, but you must have been waiting for a while." She canted her head, adjusting her grip on her bag. "My usual shift ended nearly an hour ago."

"Yeah." His head made an awkward bobbing motion. "Did you have a trainee today?"

She nodded. "Not originally, though. His Healer got sick and had to leave. But he left on time."

"Ah."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, which had this funny bunching effect on the sleeves of his Auror robes. She toed the cobblestone sidewalk with her Muggle clog (some popular brand called Dansko), giving the deli a side-glance. The silence was maddeningly deafening… She just needed to say _something_ to move beyond the moment. To get them back to—

"Are you hungry?" His eyes met hers, and he stepped towards her. Fear and determination mingled in his perfectly perfect hazel eyes…

 _Bugger this_.

"Actually, I think I've kept you waiting long enough," she countered, gesturing to the alley just beyond the deli, ignoring the protesting growl of her stomach. "We can talk there first."

He hesitated, seemingly buying himself a few seconds to fiddle with his glasses before answering. "You sure?"

"Positive," she said, already moving in that direction, stealing her nerves, hoping she appeared the very definition of poise and composure. She refused to let him see how he'd affected her today, she steadfastly _refused_.

"Right," James started as they stepped into the shadows of the alley. "So, it's about last night."

"I gathered."

"Okay… yeah…" He pulled his glasses off his head and cleaned them against his black robes. "I've practiced telling you this all day, but it never gets easier—" he returned his glasses to their proper place, meeting her waiting gaze with such full look that her heart seized in its bony cage "—so here goes: my wife passed away four years ago. Four years ago yesterday, actually. She had Dragon Pox, and it took a sudden turn for the worse all in a single day, and we lost her that night."

There were no words… He couldn't have said or done anything differently to prepare her for… for _that_. And words were such an inadequate response to such an admission. But such a vulnerable confession deserved some sort of response, which is how she found herself breathing out the most paltry and stupid response imaginable: "Oh."

"Yeah." There was a tense sheepishness about him that was endearing enough to have her wanting to cave and reach out to him. To hold him as he continued to share… But that wasn't the nature of their arrangement, so she remained rooted in place, threading her fingers together for support instead.

"I hadn't expected this, us," he went on, motioning between the two of them, "to keep up this long. But you're just… you're so… Merlin, Hermione. You've really no idea how brilliant you are."

"Amenable and shaggable you mean?"

"No!" he protested, far too loud and fast for her to believe him completely. She quirked a brow at him, her grip over her fingers tightening while his cheeks turned a deep shade of pink and he gave a nervous sounding huff. "I mean, that's what it was. That's what we agreed it was, but you should know I haven't been that consistent with anyone since Lily. I just… There was only an odd night here or there while Harry would be at school. My partner, Sirius, you remember him, yeah?"

She nodded dumbly. What else was there to do? The past now had a name. Two names to be precise: Lily and Harry Potter.

His head moved in that ridiculous bobbing motion again, and he raked a hand through his hair. "So, Sirius has been a bachelor in all this time, and started taking me to pubs to just try to get back out there two years ago, and it was awful. I fucked it up all the time, because there was only ever Lily since fifth year for me, and we'd been together sixth year. I bumbled up the protection charm, or maybe we just forgot all about it a time or two, but Harry came along not long after that. And life was different, but it was good, you know? We had a family cottage, and Lily wanted to take care of Harry the first year, so I got permission from the headmaster to Floo to and from school everyday to finish seventh year. Lily finished from home, and everything was good. It was really good."

He paused, his expression turning to something so broken she stepped into him without hesitating a moment. "Until it wasn't, I'm guessing," she offered, wrapping her fingers around his elbow.

"Right." His voice cracked, and he offered a lopsided, sad sort of smile. "Last year was the first I'd managed to start asking witches out for a date here or there. Not very many, nothing ever beyond a couple of nights, until you."

"Oh…" This wasn't real. This was still her warped subconscious with its horrific sense of humour and she was going to wake up soon enough. She attempted a swallow, but found an immovable lump. "I guess that's that, then, and this has run its course."

His eyes blew impossibly wide and a strangled sound passed his lips. "I'm not telling you all this to end... That's not what I—" He snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head. "Look, may I buy you dinner, please? I really want to talk some more about… things, I guess. And figure those things out with you, and a proper dinner sounds like the best way to go about it." Merlin, he was so adorably charming even in his word stumbling. "It's just easier having these meaningful conversations while having things around to occupy one's hands, and keep from looking a complete nutter like I do right now… Please. Dinner?"

He seemed so sincere. Almost enough for her to believe that last night… That all the other times he'd reached for her in bed… That every time he'd owl'd over the last four months meant more than…

Just _more_ , she supposed.

But that was a child's dream, she now realised.

"I can't. We just… it can't… we shouldn't." She was backtracking now, pulling herself away from his warmth and muscles, creating space between them, preparing to banish herself from his life. "Because I think I crossed into something beyond last night, or maybe I almost did, and hoped maybe you'd find a way to join me there if given a little more time—"

"Hermione, please—"

"Don't. Please, don't." She turned her face back to face the road, averting her gaze to keep him from seeing the swelling tears. "You have a proper family. Friends, a son, and just… a life. You, your son, the memory of your wife… bollocks, everyone in your life deserves someone exquisite when you're ready. So, goodbye, James."

She didn't stop, didn't turn, didn't look back for one final image of him, as she walked as fast as her legs could move to the Apparition point. The world twisted, spun, and collapsed; and she would never know if it was real or not real that James Potter had called out to her, and that she'd heard him sprinting to catch her before she vanished from the sidewalk. She landed on her bedroom floor, collapsing in a heap and caught a whiff of James' cologne from the night before.

Only then did she truly allow herself to accept the shattering within that was her heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alpha thanks to Frumpologist and beta love and hearts to CourtingInsanity. Thanks to you lovely people for reading this nonsense and leaving such kind reviews!  
> All remaining errors are my own.
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

"Mr. Grant in room four is inquiring after another sleeping draft, Healer Granger, and then Ms. Summers in room one has another food complaint she'd like to speak with you about."

Hermione groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, and wishing some stray jinx from somewhere would hit her…

"Shall I send one of the trainees in to handle them, Healer Granger?"

"No, no. It's fine, Holmes." Hermione offered a tired smile to the Medi-Witch. "Mr. Grant keeps trying to trick someone up to hoard and take a few extra-strength drafts home, and if we sent Theo into Ms. Grant, she'd try devour him with her afternoon tea."

Medi-Witch Holmes smirked, an evil glint flashing in her blue eyes. "If it would keep him occupied and not asking me five dozen questions over the next half-an-hour…"

"Oh you…" Hermione flicked at the air near her co-worker without any intention of inflicting pain. "I think it's wonderful that he's not afraid to ask anyone questions, it'll set him apart as a healer someday. It shows he doesn't think himself too important to handle something as simple as a foot-stomping charm gone wrong, he's not afraid to talk to anyone about anything, and he's willing to be a team player within the healthcare facility."

Holmes rolled her eyes. "Which are all nothing more than dressed up ways of saying he's an impossible chatterbox who likes all forms of attention."

"Someone talking about me?" Theo appeared from nowhere, as per usual, linking his arms through theirs. "Anything I can help you lovely ladies with on this fine afternoon? A patient need turning or bathing? Another helping of pudding to keep Ms. Summers from sending yet another essay annotating her every complain of the quality of food in this most excellent establishment to the hospital Board of Directors?"

"Merlin…" Hermione twisted herself out of Theo's touch. Everything had been normal and calm since that one thing he'd asked on _that_ day three weeks ago, but… Touch was not a physical sensation she was interested in feeling at this time. Not for a good long while, actually. Not until she'd finally forgotten what it'd been like when James…

"If you've finished your experimenting with one of those vile Weasley nose-bleeding products, I'd actually appreciate it if you'd have a second look over Mr. Grant's chart to see if we've missed anything; I could have sworn Cho ordered him to be discharged yesterday."

Theo was already side-stepping around the large counter, reaching for the shelf of patient files. "I thought she had, too, but that could have been wishful thinking on my part, and—"

"You too?" Hermione quick-stepped over to the trainee, scanning the file from her awkward staining side angle. "I should have seen him first thing this morning, then. But Ms. Summers has been just incorrigible and those new admits from the Quidditch match accident took up more time than I thought they w— _OW!_ "

A heavy _something_ collided with her head before falling to the floor, landing with a _THUD_.

"Salazar, Hermione. If that's for you, which I'm guessing it is, seeing as how the owl is hovering angrily over you, and quite frankly looks like he wants to have your fingers in return for his efforts, you've got to ease up on whatever love potion you're slipping to this mystery wizard!"

Hermione glared back at Theo, rubbing her head and thinking of five different potions she could slip in his morning coffee tomorrow morning… Theo's hands shot up, palms out.

"I'm just saying," he hastily added, "daily assorted gifts and owls you either burn or vanish to somewhere for the last two weeks..."

The wizard continued talking, though Hermione opted for tuning him out, biting down, _hard_ , on her lower lip instead as she stooped down to collect the box. Chocolates from Paris… Her favourite, actually. Not that James would have known that. They'd never talked about details like this. A vice squeezed around her heart, crushing all the air from her chest, too, even though she knew it was useless to feel such a sense of mourning. Theirs hadn't been an arrangement of conversation after all.

There was a letter on the back of the box, carefully secured under the ribbon and an extra sticking charm. The voice in her head that missed him, missed his touch, his breath, his presence more than anything, screamed at her to rip into the letter now. To drink in his words, no matter what they said, find him _now_.

She choked all of that nonsensical rot down with a hard swallow, tucking the letter in her robes to burn later. Just like the rest of them.

"I'll visit Ms. Summers now." She plastered a half-smile across her face as her gaze floated between Theo and Homes, the chocolates, and the patient's room door. "Let's see if I can't persuade her to keep complaints to herself, and get her family to agree to bringing meals from outside the facilities for her the remainder of her stay. It's only a few days more; people have survived worse, after all."

The unread letter burned between the folds of her lime-green robes, branding her skin, begging to be read. Far worse things, indeed.

* * *

"So, as you can see here, Theo," Hermione gestured over a bare chest, hovering over a patch of angry purple and red flesh, "when the Claremont bruising salve is applied after the patient takes Howard's antiseptic potion, there is the possibility for subsequent rashes to the injured area."

Theo poked, pinched, rubbed, and stretched the affected skin. "Fascinating. I wonder how I never noticed this with myself in school; plenty of Quidditch injuries, you know…"

"My guess would be because your potions master at Hogwarts stocked the hospital wing supply of salves and potions—more cost effective that way, whereas we outsource from a variety of vendors, whose ingredients may or may not be the best of quality."

"Makes sense." Theo poked and stretched over the injury once more, squinting, and appear almost disgusted. "I'm half tempted to wake Mr. Gains up now to conduct a series of experiments with compatible and non-compatible salves and potions now."

Hermione snorted, tucking a curl behind her ear, backing away from the patient, and moving towards the door. "No need for that. A list is tacked on the inside of the door of every supply cupboard, and in this case, it's not a side effect that happens every time, or with everyone. It's entirely dependent on the freshness of the salve ingredients and the patient. Trial and error can be an irritation at times." She shrugged, closing the door behind them. "For as much as I complain about the Weasley twin joke shop, theirs is the best bruise away salve I've come across yet."

"Yes, in all your _years_ and _year_ s of experience."

"Precisely," she said, tossing a crooked smile over her shoulder and Theo followed up with several more inquiries of potentially disastrous potion and salve combinations, which Hermione happily answered.

This was good. This was normal. This was how life had been before James Potter, and this was how she would survive. Work would see her through this listless void. Losing herself in patients, instructing, and paperwork would keep her from remembering it'd been an entire week since James had last sent her something.

An entire week. Seven whole days

No letter. No note. No more flowers. No more chocolates.

She didn't know what was worse about the whole situation: the fact that no one said anything about it at work, even Theo hadn't asked her about the sudden end of Hermione's mystery deliveries, _or_ the sudden end of it all… The pitying silence was worse, she reminded herself. She would remind herself of that every half-an-hour if that's what it took to force herself into believing it. Because if the latter is what upset her most…

She sucked a sharp breath, steering her thoughts to back to whatever it was Theo was talking about, which appeared to be another one of Theo's strolls down memory lane; attending Hogwarts with the Weasley twins had apparently been something of legend. School memories seemed an appropriate and safe thing to comment on, so Hermione opened her mouth to do just that when Medi-Witch Harris burst through the lift:

"Healer Granger, come quick!" He threw his dark hands out, bracing the doors so they couldn't close. "You're needed in the emergency department."

"What's happened?" she asked, rushing to the lift, cold dread and confusion coiling in her gut. "Was there an accident somewhere? I didn't hear an announcement for all available healers to report downstairs."

"No accident." The Medi-witch shook his head, turning and holding his arms in an ushering gesture for Hermione to enter the lift. "Well, nothing major. There was a training accident of sorts at the Ministry of Magic and the patient is requesting you specifically."

Her brows furrowed, though she still entered the lift, calling over her shoulder: "Come on, Theo."

Harris frowned. "The patient didn't say anyth—"

"Irrelevant," Hermione snapped. "We can deal with that when we get to the emergency section, but Theo is my trainee for the time-being, and he's see to all of my cases with me."

"All right." Theo entered the lift just as the doors slid closed, and they all looked at each other awkwardly a moment before Harris cleared his throat. "So, the patient is an Auror…"

Hermione's heart plummeted as the lift descended.

"...Seems there was training accident with new recruits and he's been refusing care from anyone else since he arrived..."

"I see." _Breathe in, and hold_ , Hermione bid herself, counting down from five in her head. _Breathe out_. "Who is the patient?"

"Auror James Potter."

* * *

There was afterlife reserved for eternal horror and torture and Hermione had herself a front-row seat. No, not even a seat. Hermione was an active participant in such humiliation and embarrassment.

Auror Black had introduced himself immediately as James' partner, and hadn't stopped grinning in her direction since she and Theo entered the room. And he may currently be _talking_ with Theo on the other side of the room, but that did nothing to lift the weight of his keen grey gaze as she tended to James'— _Auror Potter's_ —arm and chest.

"Still can't believe you went on to train to be a healer, Theodore," James said, his own hazel eyes boring into Hermione's as he spoke across the room to Theo, who'd already given Hermione two questioning looks, but knew well enough by now to not say _anything_ for the time being. If she were lucky, he never would. "How's your family doing?"

Auror Black snorted loudly. "Yes, Theodore, do tell us all what my stuffy cousin and her prat of a husband are up to these days, since neither James nor myself will never have an inclination to open to the society fold of the paper."

"Missing out on a daily treat then, my friends." Theo slipped his hands into the pockets of his healer robes, leaning easily against the wall. "Lucius is still contentedly busy with his various positions on five different board of directors. Narcissa is already in the planning stages of the annual Malfoy Yule Ball, and Draco and I have already been informed we're not allowed to skip the country this year." He and Auror Black shared a laugh, while James bore a half smile, still watching Hermione's every movement and mumbled spell.

"I'm obviously here," Theo continued, "and Draco's stayed on at Hogwarts to get his potion mastery from Severus, and there we all have it."

At last, _at last_ , James' eyes slid from Hermione to Theo, narrowed and pensive. "What about Thor—"

"He never writes and I neither do I." Hermione's head jerked up; she'd never heard Theo speak so sharply before. Nor seen such darkness cross his features. He met her gaze and shook his head.

She nodded, biting down on the inside of her lip as silence fell over the room and she focused again on Jam—the _patient_. "We're ready for the Skele-Gro now, Theo, if you'd like to administer the proper dose."

"Right-oh." Theo snapped into action, double checking the dose with Hermione and reviewing the possible side-effects of the potion before handing it off to James. "By the way, how'd you end up getting yourself injured? Harry always made it sound as though you were completely unbreakable."

"Training accident," Auror Black volunteered while James coughed and then gagged, handing the goblet back to Theo. "Threw himself in harm's way to save a new recruit from a spell. Almost as if the stupid sod _wanted_ to get injured…"

James threw a predatory look at his partner, but couldn't manage talking quite yet, giving Theo the opportunity for another question: "Didn't know you'd both come off the field for training."

"We haven't," Sirius sniffed, buffing his nails over his dark robes. "James volunteered us for this extra today, got himself injured being the reckless Gryffindor he still is, and made an enormous fuss over getting only the best of care once here. Kept insisting that the absolute best was Healer Granger."

Hermione's eyes flew to James', finding his cheeks flushed, jaw tight (though, whether to keep from coughing again, or from what his friend had offered up, she had no way of knowing), and gaze unwavering as it bored into hers.

"Well," she managed, forcing her legs to move away from the bed and back to the door, "we're all done in here. It will take about half-an-hour for the bone to set and reconnect properly, so don't go anywhere. I'll inform one of the healers assigned to this unit what we've done, and someone will clear you before you can leave."

"Will you need to be the one to check on everything?" James' face had gone from blushing to feral in no time at all. "Perhaps we'd need to arrange for a home visit just to be sure?"

Theo's eyes widened at her from the potions cabinet, while Hermione struggled to draw a breath. "I think not, Ja—Mr. Potter." Those blasted hazel eyes darkened and she stumbled back into the door. "That is, _Auror_ Potter…" Worse. Much worse. He looked ready to pin her against any flat surface in the room immediately, and it was probably the safest course of action to exit the room without any further comment or explanation.

Her trainee caught her right after she'd finished debriefing Medi-Witch Harris on his treatment while jotting a few notes in his file. Together, they made their way slowly and silently through the emergency area. Theo broke first. "Who talks first then?" he asked.

"Your last name is Nott," Hermione ventured softly, "but that doesn't seem to be the same as the family you described in the room."

"It's not. My father is a twisted fucker who killed Mother when I was five. Made it look like an accident and all, but Aurors got him on some technicality, I never bothered to ask what. Lucius and Narcissa took me in and all but legally adopted me. Draco and I are the same age, and we've been brothers ever since."

She nodded, side stepping and pressing her back against the wall to keep from colliding into an enchanted potions cart. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Well, ho-hum, woe is me," Theo retorted, lifting a hand dramatically over his chest. "Perhaps if you'd wanted to share intimate details with each other beforehand and cross that line from colleagues to friends, you wouldn't have been placed in that awkwardly unaware position." She huffed and was about to respond, but Theo wasn't done: "And I wouldn't have had to learn that you're shagging James Potter from that sexually charged encounter."

Hermione sputtered, snatching his arm, stopping them both in their tracks. "Theo, I don't… You can't… You couldn't possibly—"

"Oh, but I can." Theo tutted, patting Hermione on the head and moving them in the direction of the lift. "And I must say, not a bad catch at all. Harry would never give you a second glance because he's been head-over-heels for Luna Lovegood since fourth year; you can tell when she attends his games this season by how flashy he plays, something I'd hope his coaches have discussed with him by now—"

"We're not involved, Theodore." She lengthened her stride, seeing the lifts, and needing to put as much distance between herself and _that room_ as quickly as possible. "At least, not anymore."

"I see." Theo kept silent the entire lift ride back to their assigned floor, offering her a sad, no, a fucking _pitying_ , smile as he allowed her to exit first.

* * *

James graced the doors of St. Mungo's twice more that week, and once more so far the following week, sporting minor injuries and asking for Hermione each time. Sirius and Theo exchanged infuriatingly smug looks every time Hermione entered the room and saw to James' wounds with every ounce of professionalism she could muster.

The prat grew bolder with every passing visit—taking to winking, openly flirting, even asking her to lunch or dinner.

It physically hurt to maintain a strong front in his presence. Theo must have noticed, because he seemed to take it upon himself to break the silence as they sat reviewing patient files together at the end of the day, after the most recent from visit from one James Potter.

"Was it the age difference?

She blinked up from her parchment. "What?"

"Whatever it was you ended things over," Theo clarified, shrugging. "Was it the age difference? It clearly couldn't have been any rubbish like incompatibility because he's been awarded all sorts of awards from the Ministry for his dedication and diligence. And, given that I could have sliced through the tension in that room just now with a severing charm, it clearly wasn't a major personality flaw…"

She chewed her tongue, taking a moment to consider how open she wanted to be about this. "It's not the age, not really." Why not go for the truth here and now? "My dad was forty-four when I was born, while my mother was thirty-five. I'm no stranger to age differences, but it's the life he has already. It's full of love and established relationships, and I'm not going to disrupt that. And before you even think of counterarguments, I would advise you to not say them, unless you'd like to be on patient bathing duty for the duration of the time you're my trainee."

It was a blessing and a curse that he followed her command.

* * *

"Oh, Healer Graaaaannnngerrrrr..."

Hermione shoulders squared and tensed immediately, and she squeezed her quill so hard it bent and would most certainly hang at an awkward angle now… Cheap batch buy hospital supply shite.

"I see your shoulders tensing, and believe me, I'm not happy about being back here, either, but he's done it again, and I can't do anything to stop the madness."

"What is it this time, Auror Black?" she queried, laying aside her quill and notes, and tugging on her bun (loathing herself for worrying one bit about her appearance before seeing James again).

"Burn to the leg, though not a training accident. He threw a fire spell at the running suspect first, and it really should come as no surprise that the blighter threw fire back at James, now should it?"

She shook her head, squelching the hot groan and sigh boiling in her chest. This needed to come to an end and she was eternally grateful that Sirius excused himself to find a hot cuppa once he'd lead her to James' room.

It ached meeting her former-lover's eyes as she entered the room, and it was positively torture knowing that pained half-smile was meant entirely for her. "You can't keep doing this, James," she murmured, sliding the door closed, padding up to where he sat propped against a mountain of pillows on the bed.

"You gave me no choice, not answering a single owl, and all. Did you even read them?"

A blush of shame filled her cheeks as she gave a quick shake to her head, assessing his leg, the raw, charred, and angry looking flesh, trying to _not_ think of all he'd done to reach out to her in the last month.

Which he was determined to undo completely with his persistence. "I see." She looked up to find him pursing his lips together so tightly that she thought for a moment she'd really gone and hurt his feelings this time, which _hadn't_ been the intent, but if it would help him to move on, which would help her in moving on…

But to her great surprise, he started to laugh. Deep, soulful, body quaking laughs, that made him wince and collapse forward, reaching for his leg. "Buggering shite, it hurts my leg to laugh, how's that possible?"

"You're an idiot, that's why." Hermione aimed her wand over his charred flesh, mentally reviewing the steps to healing burns in her mind as she asked, "What in Merlin's name could possibly be funny at a time like this?"

"You reminded me of Lily just then." Her breath caught, but she'd begun her sequence of spells and didn't dare interrupt him. "I was awful to her to get her to notice me. I was the little boy who dipped her hair ribbons in ink first year and acted out in and out of classes to make sure she noticed me. And I was the only second year to make the Gryffindor Quidditch team, again to make sure Lily Evans noticed me."

Her outstretched hands shook, and it was a struggle to keep her wand from slipping through her grasp. Biting down on her lip, she twisted her head to the right, just enough to let him see she was looking at him; to let him know she was listening.

He canted his head, lips curling in a sweet sort of lovely smile, the kind that reminded her of her father when he told stories of "wooing" her mother. "Remus let me in on the fact she wasn't impressed with all that public rot when he made Prefect with her and had to do rounds about the school with her during our fifth year, and I finally settled down. And she came to tell me eventually that she always noticed me." His eyes had begun to mist, and suddenly he wasn't looking at Hermione anymore, but somewhere beyond her. "She just didn't want to be with an unapologetic toerag; said she'd rather I have the ability to be one, but choose not to be."

A thick swallow and a mumbled, "She sounds like she was perfect," later and Hermione had finished her series of spells and would need potions to finish the process here. She was halfway to the door when she turned back.

"James?"

"Mhm?"

"What's a toerag?"

The rays of his smile kissed against her skin from across the room, like the summer sun on a perfect day. "I never found out. But I just need to talk to you, Hermione. Hear me out with this, please."

"The timing isn't right." Her voice was soft, and she couldn't bring herself to quite meet his eye. "You have a full career and mine's just getting started, and this wasn't anything major to begin with. You should really try to find someone who's well established, and doesn't have all sorts of rookie mistakes to make."

"Well, that's something we can discuss, love, if you'd just let us _talk_."

She met his eyes now: hazel, warm, full, compassionate, inviting. It was enough to make her lips part, his name falling from her lips, her patient reaching a hand out to her…

The door burst open, and she stumbled backward, blinking away from his scorching gaze. "I have the potions you'll need, Healer Granger," Theo sang out, blessedly obviously to whatever it was he'd just walked in on as he waltzed up to James, setting everything up on the bedside table. "Sirius found me while searching for a decent cup of tea, and I just told him to help himself to the break room while he was here, I hope that was all right. Would you like to supervise while I administer these potions?"

Hermione shook her head. "You go ahead, Theo. I'll begin our patient notes and save the assessment, diagnosis, plan of care for you."

"Sure thing," he answered, turning back to his vials to study everything once more, as he always did, before giving everything in their recommended order. Thank Merlin for her trainee's due diligence, he was so engrossed in his work that he missed the lingering look passed between patient and healer.

Or maybe he felt it as keenly as Hermione did, but simply chose to ignore it, just as Hermione would, too.

* * *

She was going out of her mind, but he just would _not_ let things go. Eighteen hours later, and James' leg was still one the mend, and he was _still_ trying to have a bloody conversation with her!

She sighed heavily. "You don't want all of this, James. I'm a relatively new Healer. I have trainees, potion and charm study ideas, and potential promotions. You don't want someone who doesn't have an abundance of spare time."

"Funny enough, when you do decide to allow this conversation to happen, you always bring up this issue of time, yet you certainly made a great deal of time for us in a four-month time-span, even if it meant a quick half an hour for a shag."

"James…" Her cheeks burned at the volume in his voice, in spite of the privacy wards around the room.

The leer melted into a softer look, something inviting and tender. "And I seem to recall making time for you, and the two of us doing this remarkably adult thing… What was it again?" He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, tapping his chin in an exaggerated manner. "Ah, yes," he said, fixing his eyes back at her. "We communicated. We worked out times and made it work, offering the scantest amount of details.

"Imagine how we could make things work for real with even more communication and detailing. Imagine how it would be for you to tell me that you're interested in furthering research wiiiiiiiith…" He made a great show of waving over her, clearly expecting an answer.

"Long term treatment options for victims of Unforgivable curses."

"Blimey. Really?"

She nodded, focusing again on the next series of cleaning and healing spells, James mercifully silent… Though not for long…

"Well, see?" His voice was strained but he seemed determined to make his point. "I reckon that will require plenty of love, care, support, and understanding. And a lot of empathy shags. Or angry frustrated shags, I'm really not picky."

Merlin, he was wearing her down and she needed to leave the room. _Now_. "Please, James…" she tried again, her will to resist weakening by the second, even as she moved in the direction of the door...

"And maybe instead of just shagged, because, don't get me wrong, we're quite brilliant at it, but once in a while, I could take you to a Quidditch game, if you don't loathe the game, that is." He must have been able to sense he was getting through to the soft, lonely, and missing him interior that was her heart. Surely, he had sensed something, because his tone softened and lowered, and he held out his hand to her.

"I've seen the way your eyes linger over the bookshelves in my sitting room, Hermione," he continued, "so maybe you'd like to spend an afternoon having tea in a bookshop sometime. Maybe sometimes I could have a meal cooked for you to come back to at the end of a long day, or maybe sometime you'll have bought an extra sandwich from the deli and I eat that, and then we could talk while we eat, or not talk if that's what we wanted, but we could just enjoy sitting with someone we care about, and not have to worry about putting up some sort of front."

Welling tears were now stinging her eyes. It was too much. He'd crossed that line, too. Maybe they'd even crossed it together that Halloween night… She took a step towards him, consumed with the need to take his hand and believe it could all work itself out.

His smile touched the crinkles around his eyes now. "How about it, love? Just give it all a go; the good, the bad, the weird and wacky, because with Sirius as a friend, you better know there is definitely wacky involved. And weird. And, Merlin, you haven't even met Remus yet. He's just gotten himself married to Sirius' cousin, and you'll never meet a clumsier or more eclectic witch than Tonks, but they make it work. And they just had a kid, and—"

"Sorry, Dad, they were already out of muffins, but I found yoghurt and apples, and— _oh_ …"

The spell was broken as Hermione looked back to the door, finding someone who could only be James' son standing there with a trayful of food, his jaw hanging open, and emerald green eyes that were not James' blown wide.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this story is now complete! Thanks so much for the comments and kudos!! I'm kinda blown away this rare pair has readers, and I'm just giddy with the positive response from it. Love you, LK. I hope you enjoyed this little bit of nonsense <3  
> Alpha love to Frumpologist, infinite gratitude as always to my lovely beta CourtingInsanity.  
> All remaining errors are my own. 
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

There had been many times in life when Hermione had considered herself quite brave.

There had the time at the age of ten when she'd written to Headmaster Dumbledore to ask if he'd grant her an early admission into Hogwarts, assuring him she was an excellent student, she'd follow all the rules, and that she'd turn eleven a mere eighteen days after the first of the school year. There had been the day following when she'd put on a brave face and not cried at the headmaster's kind, but firm, rejection of her request.

There had been the day her parents had left her at Beauxbatons and she'd made good on her word again and _not_ cried that first night, nor any night following amidst the ebb and flow of homesickness.There had been that time halfway through the first term of her third year when she'd plucked up the courage to with a group of fourth and fifth years in the library, asking if she could study Ancient Runes and Arithmancy with them, as she was already well ahead of her classmates.

There'd also been the beginning of second term her fifth year when the handsomest seventh year asked her if she'd like to go steady with him. It'd been a whirlwind, last-thing romance for him, and he'd been her first for… everything, really. He'd been fun and sweet, but she'd gotten over him in a matter of weeks once summer started.

Absolutely none of those life moments had prepared Hermione for coming face-to-face with the grown son of her former lover.

Which left only one plausible solution: "Theo will be in with your morning dose of potions shortly!" she exclaimed. Loudly, at that. Cold fear shot through her system, and she needed to move, move, _move…_ "I'll be in to assess you once more before you're discharged. Goodbye!"

And with a nervous smile, she all but fled out the door, dashing down the hall, ignoring morning salutations tossed in her direction, not stopping to breathe or think until she reached the supply closet at the end of the hall.

She estimated she'd been tucked safely away for a solid five minutes, focusing on her breathing exercises and calming techniques when all that went to shite and the new, yet almost familiar, voice of Harry Potter called for her, along with a soft knock against the door.

Her lips folded in on themselves as her breath caught. Maybe he'd be fooled into thinking she wasn't here if she were quiet enough…

"Healer Granger?" Knock, knock. "Erm, Hermione?" Knock, knock, knock. "If there's someone else in there, I'm sorry, but Theo told me I might find Healer Granger in here if she wasn't anywhere else on the floor, and I just needed to speak with her."

 _Oh Circe._ Persistence ran in the family, it seemed. There would be no point in waiting for him to leave; he'd probably only volunteer to fetch supplies for Theo until she surfaced. She sucked a fortifying breath before pulling the door open. "Hello," she said, lips straining to attempt a polite smile.

He gave a funny sort of wave. "Hi."

Silence. Total silence.

"So…"

"So…"

She chewed her tongue, grasping for literally _anything_. "Theo says you're a professional Quidditch player…?" _Smooth, Hermione. Brilliant second impression._

"Yeah." His head bobbed. "My first season. I just sat for my N.E.W.T's in June."

"Oh. I sat for the French equivalent the summer before, then started in with an accelerated Healer training program in Paris immediately after."

Another nervous head bob and a hand raking through messy raven-coloured locks that was just _so_ like James… "So, you're brilliant level smart then?"

She huffed something between a laugh and a scoff. "No. Not really. My birthday is September the nineteenth and my parents had the means, determination, and connections to get me into a school where I wouldn't feel so out of place all the time. I fell in love with magic and wanted to learn as much as possible as fast a possible. My teachers for the most part encouraged my thirst and drive. Other times they were wise enough to tell me 'no' and just let me enjoy being a student."

"Ah." Emerald eyes began to dance behind round glasses. "All of this makes a lot more sense now."

Her face fell. Too much. It was too much and she couldn't do this… "I have patients I need to tend to; if you'll excuse me, Mr. Potter…"

"Harry."

"What?" Her steps faltered trying to step around and beyond him.

"I'm just Harry. Mr. Potter is my dad…" He paused, the hint of what she suspected was smirk climbed in wicked curls up his face. "And if it's all right with you, I _really_ don't want to know about the circumstances which you would be calling him _that_."

 _Nononononononono._ She groaned right out loud, sinking to the floor like some emotional school girl, but she couldn't bring herself to care enough about hygiene and professionalism.

The wizard loosed a low laugh, joining her on the floor, drawing his legs near his chest. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I just thought we could use something to cut the tension."

Biting her lip, Hermione nodded a few times, meeting the new wizard's eyes. "I suppose so. Just… this is so…" Words failed and she threw her hands about uselessly, praying they'd do the talking for her.

"Yeah. I'm not going to lie to you, it kinda is." He was smiling, though. Harry Potter was smiling one of those friendly and kind smiles she'd seen James wear in the pale morning light many times. And yet, there was something about it that set it apart as Harry's own… Maybe it was from his mother… He released a heavy breath. "So, I've heard Dad's version of you, and Sirius' version of Dad's all-brilliant plan to get you to finally talk to him, but I'd kinda like to hear your version in all this, too. If you don't mind, that is." His head tilted, something serious seeping into his features. "Actually, even if you do mind. He's my dad after all, and if this is a lost cause, I'm probably the only one who can convince him of that."

"It's not," Hermione blurted, spine snapping upright, shoulders squaring. "At least, I don't want it to be, and I think we were about to cross the threshold into talking and figuring things out, but you walked in and I panicked."

"Okay. Sorry, then." Harry drummed his fingers over his knee. "You really didn't read any of the owls he sent?"

Guilt assailed her in an instant. "I didn't," she admitted, swallowing hard. "And I gave the chocolates to Medi-Witches or difficult patients. The flowers always stayed to freshen up the breakroom. It was immature and cowardly of me, and he at least deserved something in return for all those lovely gestures, but I just thought that if I made it look like I was ignoring everything, he'd get over me soon enough."

"Well, that obviously hasn't happened." Harry chuckled, throwing a look over his shoulder back in the direction of James' room. "Did you want him to?"

"Yes and no." She shrugged, huffing again. "I don't exactly have much experience in this area. A wizard in fifth year, then a handful of dates with a few different wizards sixth year, but I was too focused on exam preparation seventh year. Then there was healer training, and moving. James came in for minor stitches, and I swear I don't know how or when he did it, but he managed to slip a note into my pocket that he'd be at _The Leaky Cauldron_ that night. I went and one thing led to another… For four months."

"Yeah." Harry's head did that bobbing thing again. "That's a significant amount of time for my dad, just so you know. I mean, I'm sure there've been witches since he's mentioned dating again, or at least trying, but he started mentioning you by name in October."

"He did?" Merlin, she could melt into the floor right here and now. Or maybe sprout wings and fly immediately to James' bedside, professionalism be damned; she was already sitting on the floor.

"Mhm," Harry hummed. "So, I'm going to do my due diligence here and ask if you're in it for the old Potter money?"

Hermione cocked her head, brows knitting tightly together. "The what?"

"Never mind." Harry carded a hand through his tousled hair. "I would have read about fancier dates in the papers if Dad had taken you anywhere remotely classy. So, the fun and thrills, then?"

"I guess. At first, yes. We didn't cross any sort of major discussion line. I didn't know about you until the first of this month, actually. "

A pained expression crossed the wizard's expression, but he nodded still. "That makes sense when I think about it. I can't imagine how hard it is trying to start over again after being married—"

"Do you hate me?"

"What?" He sounded genuinely confused, sparking a light of hope within Hermione's chest.

She gulped a large breath. "I like him. I'm pretty rubbish with relationships because I honestly haven't been in one in a while, and that was back in school, and I'm pretty sure I was either a rebound or a final-term fling, but I wouldn't have kept seeing James if I didn't like him. I did, I really and truly did, and still do."

He flashed one of those kind smiles again. "Then why the walking away and ignoring his attempts at wooing?"

"I think…" she started, snapping her jaw shut, considering her words. "I think James deserves to hear all of that from me, but please believe me when I say I had good intentions. And for everyone else in his life, honestly."

"All right. D'you think you could have that talk, or at least agree to meet him for tea before he stages something worse to get himself admitted to your floor?"

"Oh, Merlin." She snorted indelicately, face falling down to her waiting palms. "He's incredibly persistent," she mumbled into her hand.

Harry scoffed, and there were sounds like he was moving to stand up. Perhaps it was time she did, too. "Look, this won't be the last of the weird conversations, I'm sure," he said as they both smoothed their hands over their robes, "but, I just want to finish this by telling you I've never had to be alone with my grief and moving on. I always had Dad, school, friends, Quidditch, and teachers." He shrugged, twisting his lips before he went on: "I mean, I know Dad has Sirius and Remus, but it's not the same.

"August, September, and October were the closest he's been to the happy-go-lucky guy from before. I have to think no matter how it started, there's something in you that makes him feel less alone in life, and thank you for that."

Her breath hitched as her eyes darted back to James' door, but she couldn't say anything.

"I'm not saying this to add pressure to whatever the two of you end up being, just so you know." Harry offered a lopsided grin. "Sirius thinks you're pretty swell. Theo was a decent enough classmate, even if he was a Slytherin, but he said you're a top-notch healer, and Dad… Godric, he just _really_ likes you."

_So please tread carefully._

He didn't say it, but the silent request hung delicately between them, giving her all the courage she needed to face that room again.

"Thank you, Harry." She smiled, real and genuine, and held her hand out to him. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

"Theo—"

"You took your morning break early and you still have fifteen minutes left by my account." He didn't look up, instead flipping back a page in a leather leather bound notebook and reaching across the break room desk for… a magazine…? "I'll be setting an alarm on my wand to collect you in exactly fifteen minutes and not a minute later because thirty minutes at a time is my limit for making plans for Cho's baby shower." He tilted his head to Hermione, a narrow brow quirked high. "I may just be a trainee, and my mother is renowned for her galas, and I may have inherited her impeccable taste for decorations, but there is only so much of this I will put myself through. Get, get, get!"

She beamed at him, tossing over her shoulder, "See you in five!" before sprinting to James' door, righting her hair and robes as she knocked.

"Come in."

 _Inhale_. "Hello, James. I'm here to—"

"Ah, Healer Granger, at last!"

 _Exhale._ "Auror Black. Hello." _And remember to smile, because it's what polite people do._ "Here to check-in on the status of your partner's recovery?"

"Among other things, ma'am." Grey eyes glittered across the room at her and she decided to simply accept the situation as presented to her, and move on. Auror Black looked back to James with a wink that wasn't at all surreptitious. "The most important thing I need to know if this twat is capable enough to sit at a desk and do all that tedious paperwork I so loathe to be bothered with."

James groaned, sinking back into his propped pillows, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Hermione's decision was made in an instant.

"I'm afraid not today," she said, summoning all the authority of a fully fledged Healer. "I came to relay that while he will be discharged in an hour, he should take the day for rest and a hearty lunch. Perhaps it would be best if your son accompanied you home, just to keep an eye on things and to make sure there are no other relapses." She'd inched herself closer and closer to his bed all the while, eyes never leaving his, deciding it his friend could easily be ignored. It seemed there was precious little he wasn't already aware of in this after all.

"And…" James faltered, his throat bobbing as his face lifted upward when she stopped at his bedside, immediately parallel to where he sat. "Are you expecting I'll need a home visit tonight?"

Circe, she wanted divest him of that ridiculous hospital gown and have him on the bed here and now. _So damn long_ … And whether it was because of that, or because she was officially on her break, so it hardly mattered that he technically was her patient, or because she'd already broken several rules of her own code today that one more infraction wouldn't make a difference… Either way, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his temple in the softest of kisses she'd ever given.

"Actually," she said, bumping her nose to his when he jerked to look her in the eye again, "I think I owe you for a great many flower bouquets and chocolate boxes."

He swallowed hard, perfect hazel eyes falling to her lips. "I believe you might be right, Healer Granger."

"Just 'Hermione' while I'm on break, James." She dipped in for a chaste brushing of her lips over his, far more pleased than ought to be legal when he whimpered as she pulled back and tucked serveral curls behind her ear. "I'll make sure to get off on time tonight if you want to meet at the deli. My treat and we'll take everything back to my flat."

"Perfect."

"Brilliant." She had somehow managed to back herself all the way back to the door. "I'll have Theo do your final assessment and bring you everything to sign, and you're free to go then, Auror Potter." She yanked her gaze away, forcing herself to focus on a very shocked-slash-smug looking Auror Black. "There's a possibility he'll be coming in late to work tomorrow, which should give you ample time to complete whatever paperwork you were hoping shove over to him today. Good day, gentlemen."

And with that, she flounced out the door, feeling better than she had all month.

* * *

"See ya tomorrow, Hermione."

A smile that threatened to split her face in two. "Bye, Theo."

Her trainee, her _friend_ she amended to herself, they'd be colleagues eventually, returned her smile, opening his mouth: "Thanks for not assigning me to some ridiculous task for letting Harry go after you. He's a good bloke, and I thought it would help break some of the ice."

"It did." It was somehow possible for her face to stretch even more, her smile only grew. "Thank you."

"Good. See you, then." He tossed a two-fingered salute her way and turned on his heel, making for the lifts and then the Floo station.

"See you," Hermione parroted softly, so softly as if she were sharing a secret with herself. Perhaps she was. Perhaps all the possibilities of the hours between now and tomorrow morning were a secret between her and James… if he would be waiting for her.

 _He would be_ , she told herself again as she stepped into the ladies room to freshen up. It had been her mantra, her saving grace to make it through the day. She splashed water on her face, rubbing around her eyes and cheeks, reminding herself he'd gone through too much trouble to get her attention and _not_ show up when she finally agreed.

Inhale. Fluff and adjust curls. Exhale. Leave the loo. Adjust work bag. Step on lift. Leave building. Walk to deli.

Lists were good. Lists were useful. Lists gave her mind something to focus on, other than the crushing weight of anxiety over potential rejection now that she'd made herself vulnerable. Now that she'd declared _her_ interest and wish for him to be there and listen…

Is this anything at all like how he'd felt the last month every time he'd sent a letter or gift? Every time he'd shown up to the hospital, insisting that only she see to his all but self-inflicted wounds?

Her heart pounded and now that she was out of the building, she needed something new to focus on. Step, step, _breathe_. Step, step, _breathe_. Step, step, _breathe_. Step, step… James… _breeeeaaaaatttheeee._

"Hello, love."

She'd been a fool. An idiot. A complete and utter tosser. His cheeks were pink from the cold wind that he'd been enduring while waiting for her—how long had he been standing here?

"Hi, James." She took the plunge, walking right up to him, running her fingers through his wind-tousled locks, unwilling to hold back any measure of affection any longer. He leaned into her touch, staring back at her with an expression so full of things loving and good she didn't deserve it. "Deli first?"

"If we must," he answered dramatically. "And I suppose if you're buying, it's only fair that I order the poshest and most expensive item on the menu, to tip the scales back in your favour."

He was teasing, at least she thought he was. That was his usual teasing voice, but the weight of the last month collided with her chest and her expression fell instantly, along with her hand, her fingers tracing the chiseled lines of his face as she began to withdraw. "James, I—"

"Don't you dare apologise, Hermione Granger." He snatched her head, sliding his fingers in the spaces between hers, squeezing once. "At least, not until there's an explanation to go along with it. But I'm not particularly interested in lengthy explanations of fears, anxieties, or doing the right and noble thing at the moment." He shifted and adjusted their stance to wrap his arm around her, tucking her into his warmth, fingers still thread together. "All I want now is a lovely night with my witch—"

He stiffened immediately, hold around her shoulder slackening as they stepped into the warm deli. "At least, I'd like you to—"

"I am," she supplied, rising to the tips of her toes, brushing her lips to his cheek and then his neck, just above his scarf. "If you want to think of me as yours, I am."

"Good." He dropped a kiss to her curls, tightening his hold around her again, moving them to que at the counter. "That's really good."

It was all a hazy exchange of words, money, tickets, and receipts as they ordered and waited on their sandwiches and crisps. That unique combination of shampoo and cologne that was so overwhelming and so very _James_ that it was difficult to think straight at such close proximity. And now that he was here, and they were waiting on dinner together at the time of the day like some established couple, she saw now she'd been so foolish, so completely blind, to think he'd been anything less than something special for a while now.

Maybe even since the first night and she'd just been too clueless or scared to see it…

They collected their orders and faced the cold November evening again, finding warmth and comfort in their bubble feelings and unspoken declarations and promises… at least that was how Hermione interpreted the situation. She almost feared making it to the Apparition point and vanishing them to her flat; what if the bubble was in her head? What if his feelings were truly hurt and he needed to take things slow before he trusted her again? Or, what if…

What if he took her in his arms and crashed his lips to hers as soon as they landed in her living room…

"Missed you," he gasped, claiming her lips in a kiss, opening his mouth, tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue. "Missed you so damn much." He kissed her again, walking her backward until her legs backed into her sofa. He paused, looking down to check their surroundings, tugging at her scarf, breathing hard as she loosened his.

The bag of sandwiches fell to the floor with a ' _plop_ ', landing on their shed scarves and coats. He helped her with the buttons of her lime-green Healer robes, leaving her in a pair of slacks and a green sweater before diving back in for her lips, setting a frenzied pace, urging her to sink down to the sofa. It was lips and teeth and tongues; moans and sighs and hums of approval. Hurried and desperate, as if they were each worried the other were about to disappear without a word or trace…

Which triggered something important in Hermione's mind.

"Wait," she mumbled as James moved to lavish attention just where he knew she liked it under her jaw. "James, I thought, oh _Merlin_ …" He was now sucking on said delicious spot, making it impossible to think, let alone string together enough words for a sentence. "James…" She'd meant it to say it to get his attention, and maybe it'd worked, because it sounded as a breathy moan to her ears, and seemed to spur him on to alternate between nibbling, sucking and laving all the way down her neck. "Shouldn't we… _Circe_ , that's feels…" A gulp and gasp. "Talk. Shouldn't we talk some?"

His lips stilled over her skin, branding the spot under her ear with a final searing kiss before he withdrew… Only to bump his nose against hers, and dip his face so their foreheads touched. "What do you want to know, love?"

"Uhhh…" She flounded a moment, thoughts scrambling as her hands carded through his hair and skimmed along his face… down to his chorded shoulders and back… _Focus, Hermione._ She breathed a steadying inhale. "I'm sorry for the last month. Trying to push you away and not listening to you when you wanted to talk. I still think I had decent intentions, but I'm sorry, nonetheless."

"I understand." He affirmed his response with a kiss to her forehead, breathing against her skin. "And I know I threw a lot at you all at once. A former marriage and a grown son are a lot to process. I spent that first week apart from you telling myself it was for the best, you were just starting in your career and didn't need to be tied down to an old wizard like me."

She snorted, pecking his lips, and arching her back up into his, relishing in the way his body still responded to hers. "My father is forty-four years older than me, and he and my mother are eight years apart. Thirty-four is hardly old."

"Good." A lingering kiss to her lips, mouths closed, but full of silent vows nonetheless. "Harry said you had a good talk…?"

"We did." Her hands toyed with the hem of his sweater before slipping up, tracing over the taught plains of his back and abdomen. "Is he still all right with this?"

He hummed against the other side of her neck, which she took to be an affirmative. "He just asked me to promise to not get up to any intimate shenanigans at the house, since he still pops in and sleeps in his old room there half the time."

"House?" Merlin, her mind was a fuzzy maze tonight… Her hands tugged at his shirt, and he lifted just enough for her to pull it from his body, allowing him to do likewise with hers. "You didn't tell him we'd been there plenty of times already did you?" Kiss to his collarbone, dotting up and across his bare shoulder. "And we managed to never see him before…"

"Flat," he said before kissing a line down to her breasts, tugging at her bra. "I've only taken you to my London flat. Harry has a flat in Chelsea, but we still have the cottage in Godric's Hollow."

Her heart swelled as she cradled his face in her hands. "When did you get the flat?" she asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

He drew a long breath, chin hovering over her now completely bare breasts, eyes boring into hers. "When Harry went back to school after his Christmas holiday. I'd split time between the house and flat while he was at school, but it was a year before I could sleep in our room again."

"Oh, James." She slid her arms down, wrapping them around his upper back, bidding him to rest his head over in the space between her breasts. "Don't ever be afraid to talk about her, Harry's childhood, or anything from the past. It's part of you, and we'll figure things out as we go."

Silence. So much silence she began to worry her lip, fearing she'd said something wrong, until…

"Will you walk away again?" It was so soft and broken sounded her heart almost shattered.

Her grip tightened and she urged him up to meet her gaze. "If we decide this needs to come to an end someday, that's a decision we'll both make together. Until then, I'm here. And I'm yours."

It was all the assurance he needed. All that both of them needed.

They moved as one off the sofa, Hermione leading the way back to her bedroom, pulling at his denims and pants while he made quick work of her slacks and knickers. She fumbled for his wand at the threshold of her bedroom, casting a hasty contraceptive charm before they fell to her bed and he sheathed himself fully in her ready and waiting body, setting a tender rhythm that echoed of making sweet love.

In the midst of kisses and touches and sighs she couldn't help but think of them. Of everything in her life up to this point. Of everything James had shared with her, too.

Maybe it was the fact that her parents were so much older and wiser than her, but she'd always assumed adults had more of life figured out. More of a plan that was rigidly followed. Or maybe it was realising how much of James was still very young, but he'd been forced to grow up so fast. Father at sixteen, widower and single father by thirty. He'd been so busy being responsible and taking care of someone else, he hadn't taken the time to enjoy younger-adult things.

Maybe it was too soon to say she could see a future with James Potter, something long and full, that lasted the rest of her life. But as he claimed her lips once more in a kiss that was as lazy and languid as his thrusts, she decided maybe it wasn't too much to believe in just such a future.


End file.
